Heresy

A poem written in 2016 after a conversation with one of the prisoners who had become “born again” into one or other of the religions on offer at the time. I just considered most of them as born again criminals. I am continuously amazed, in everyday life, by the number of people who are devoid of compassion, or other moral values such as forgiveness, yet profess to be religious. It’s as if, just saying one is religious, one is absolved of the need to behave well.

Heresy

Of all the flames that burned heretics Some still burn bright today The choirs that cheered have few lessons learned And till bay for blood as their children play The wisdom of wrath fans the ethos of envy And moulds the mythology of a heathen enemy

We may no longer burn our foes With the enthusiasm of the ecstatic But the cruelty of some still no limit knows To others whose ideas are anathematic Beliefs, of themselves, are no real threat Cruelty can only cruelty beget

Despite the struggles that have defined this earth Evil remains undefeated Yet, unto our death and from our birth Our stock of compassion is undepleted Whether fast and furious or slow as snail Human progress, in time, will prevail

Heresy is by the church defined But interpreted by a political power A distortion of the religious mind That threatens even those that cower Hearsay and hatred will play their part But defining heresy is an ever-dying art